


Blank Page

by TheMysteriousStoryteller



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, projecting onto hajime go brrrrr, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMysteriousStoryteller/pseuds/TheMysteriousStoryteller
Summary: Because, really, that's all he is.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 17





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**Author's Note:**

> Uh hiiiiiii. Like the tags say, this is a little vent fic where I just project onto Hajime. I'm fine, but...I've been struggling with my writing a lot. So, this is just me venting my frustration out, lol. Also this is vaguely based off of Lost One's Weeping 'cause that song slaps so. Yeah. Comments are, as usual, appreciated, and I hope you all have a lovely night.

In a dimly lit bedroom, a boy stares at a screen, his face illuminated by the bright light of his laptop. Beside him lays a sheet of paper: instructions for an assignment.  _ “Write about yourself. Whether it be an essay or a poem, use this assignment as a chance to express yourself!”  _ He thinks to himself how ironic it is for the school to give the chance of self-expression to expressionless people. Maybe that is why his mind draws a blank as bleak as the page burning into his eyes. 

He checks the time.  _ 2:53 in the morning _ , he notes to himself,  _ I really need to get my sleep schedule back on track.  _

(Though, he knows that if he did, it would not be long before it is messed up all over again. If he could just  _ write something _ , though, it would not be an issue. Not now, at least.) 

He begins to type, but pauses and erases it all as quickly as it was created. He takes his hands away, groans, and lays his head in them. He tries to focus on the calm music playing in his headphones, but his mind begins to wander.  _ If I were talented, the paper would’ve been done already. If I was the Ultimate Author or something, it would be amazing. You know, why do I even need to do this, anyway? Who cares about the feelings of a talentless nobody?  _

Nanami would probably use an analogy of a video game to describe herself, making countless references to obscure things that would make Hinata’s head spin—yet, he would still understand what she means. Koizumi would probably talk about photography, and how much it has impacted her and made her who she was. Komaeda would probably use vivid, colorful language to ramble about his purpose as a stepping stone, and how he was made to serve the Ultimates using his self-proclaimed “largely useless” talent. But hey, at least he  _ had  _ a talent. What did Hinata have? A blank sheet, an unfinished assignment, and a heavy, hollow self. 

His phone lights up with a text. Without even thinking, he picks up his phone to read it over. It was Komaeda, asking him if he wanted to call and chat. He sends a text back. 

_ [ **Hinata** : youre still awake?] _

A reply comes quick. 

_ [ **Komaeda** : unfortunately lol] _

_ [ **Komaeda** : though i could ask you the same question :P] _

Hinata snorts to himself. 

_ [ **Hinata** : fair enough] _

_ [ **Komaeda** : so, anyway hinata-kun, are you able to call?] _

_ [ **Komaeda** : I understand if you’re not! ^^ you dont have to talk to someone like me if you dont want to!] _

Hinata sighs at the self-deprecation, but ultimately shrugs it off. He glances back up at his laptop. He knows that, in the back of his mind, he should decline and get back to work. It isn’t like he had  _ started  _ working, though; furthermore, maybe not intensely staring at the screen for a bit would do him good. Maybe when he got back, he would know what to write. 

(He knows that isn’t true. When he returns to his laptop and stares at that empty page again, nothing will come to his head. His metaphors will still be dull. His similes will still be tiring. His diction will still be sub-par. Everything he creates will still be vapid and boring, because that is all he is. A blank page that will never be filled. There is nothing to write about for someone like him. Everything he writes can be written better. Everything he says can be said better. Everything he does can be done better.)   
  
The music is suddenly too loud. He switches tabs and pauses it, blinks the tears out of his eyes and forcefully rubs at them until they burn. A sigh leaves him. He pushes the laptop shut, cringing at how loud the slam was. He picks his phone up. 

_ [ **Hinata** : yeah i can call] _

And the page remains blank. 


End file.
